


Our Little Melody

by windandthestars



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: sanctuary_bingo, F/M, genre swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had fussed over the melody for ages, humming it for weeks backstage during the last leg of their tour.  They’ve only performed it a couple of times, once quite disastrously, and she’s been pushing him for more ever since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Little Melody

**Author's Note:**

> The Sanctuary gang as The Civil Wars (genre swap: music)
> 
> For sanctuary_bingo: alternate universe.

They’re in LA again doing some press before they head up the coast to start the next leg of their tour. He’s happy, content to spend what little down time they have basking by the hotel pool, taking in all the sun they don’t have this time of year in Nashville. He likes to think of California as his second home, despite the fact he’d never left the east coast before his career had taken off the first time. Maybe all the sun went straight to his head, but he found a sort of peace in the large crowded cities on the west coast.

Helen on the other hand was miserable, not so much so that he couldn’t tease a smile out of her, but the usual mischief he brought out in her was gone. She was brooding, she missed home, the relationship she no longer had. It had been over for years but he knew she had days when it felt like it had all come crashing down yesterday. She put on a brave face, but he knew having Abby around, belly swollen with their first child, wasn’t helping. Helen missed the family, her two kids, and the husband she no longer had and here he was, rubbing it in her face.

He rolls over, propping himself up on his elbows and watches the crowd over the top of his magazine. It’s last years’ edition of the Rolling Stones, and while he’d normally read it cover to cover, he’s finding it’s not holding his attention. Most of the people he can see are hotel staff, although there are a couple of guests with breakfast out on the patio. It’s early, he’s still on east coast time, and he’s not entirely sure the pool’s actually open. No one’s said anything to him though, and he’s in no hurry to leave.

Abby’s still sleeping, the flight the day before had exhausted her, and Helen, if she’s up, hadn’t answered the door when he’d knocked. He’ll swing by in half an hour with breakfast and some good cheer. He’s in the mood to goof off for a bit like he always was before a long day, but she’d want to go over their newest song again while she picked over the food he had brought. They’d finished the song last month, but it wasn’t until last week that they’d really polished it up; Helen curled up like a cat in the armchair in his living room. They weren’t planning on playing it this week, they preferred to use their older, more familiar stuff for radio shows, but she would want to go over it again anyway.

There’s something about this song that really gets to her in a good way. They both love everything they sing, but they each have their favorites and this is definitely one of hers. She had fussed over the melody for ages, humming it for weeks backstage during the last leg of their tour. They’ve only performed it a couple of times, once quite disastrously, and she’s been pushing him for more ever since.

Kate waves at him from across the pool and he nods, watching her weave her way through the long beach chairs to fall onto the one beside him, bagel smeared with cream cheese held in one hand, her camera bag in the other. “Are you sure you’re ok with me cancelling dinner?”

Dinner hadn’t really been dinner, but another mini photoshoot with the three of them before they hit up one of the popular local restaurants. They would’ve had a good time, but he’s glad she had booked the last minute gig. A day of live radio was exhausting and he knows Helen would appreciate the time off after, even if she did spend the evening complaining about the hotel’s rather shoddy wine list. “Go do your thing. You’re about to be stuck with us for two months.”

“Because you guys are so hopelessly boring.” Kate rolls her eyes and he waves her off.

“Go work your magic. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Let me know if your schedule changes.”

“I have your number.” He replies as she makes her way back around the pool.

Kate like everything else with the band had been a lucky find; she’s an amazing friend and an astonishing photographer. She’d also come in handy when they’d needed someone to design their tour posters and later when they’d needed to find a booking manager. He and Helen had been in the business for decades, and yet Kate somehow managed to have connections they didn’t. 

It wasn’t just her talent and her connections to the younger art crowd that had endeared her to him, Kate was dedicated. They hadn’t asked her to step out into the lime light with them but she had, gracefully. It wasn’t all hearts and flowers, but she’d weathered the bumps along with all of them, relishing the opportunities their mutual success had granted her. 

He had assumed that with her success they’d be seeing less of her, he certainly wouldn’t blame her, but she was there by their sides more days than not, camera slung around her neck. On the days, like today, she’d call to check in, listening to their broadcasts over the radio as she worked.

They had a good team, he and Helen, a family of nomads, and while he hadn’t left his family behind in Nashville, their rag tag band do make it easier, even for him. They’re why he’s looking forward to today, the endless questions and the waiting because in the end he knows he’ll get to thank them, not in name but in spirit, time and time again when he says on the air how blessed he is, how lucky they are.


End file.
